


We Fall

by allofuswithwings



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:55:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofuswithwings/pseuds/allofuswithwings
Summary: Chris knows there’s more to Dom’s obnoxious behaviour than meets the eye. He does his best to give Dom what he needs.
Relationships: Dom Howard/Chris Wolstenholme
Kudos: 2





	We Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal/Dreamwidth. Originally published February 2010.

Dom is not as drunk as he pretends to be.

Despite getting thrown out of the awards after-party and nearly getting the shit kicked out of him by several other artists, it’s all a ruse. I know him well enough to know when he’s faking. I don’t think he’s even drunk at all; he’s maybe had four beers at most.

Which is why Matt threw a drink in his face earlier and told him to go fuck himself, because he knew Dom had no legitimate reason for being the utterly rude arsehole he was. Of course, it was then me who had to force him back here to his hotel room, amongst much shoving, wrestling and swearing.

He wiggles from my grip as I shut the door behind us, and tells me not to be such an uptight wanker. Pretending to stumble drunkenly, he makes for the fridge and starts rifling through the mini-bar, calling us boring fuckwits.

I cross the room and haul him from the fridge, slapping the tiny bottles of liquor from his hands; I’m not in the mood to start dealing with him being genuinely drunk.

Dom laughs at me and rolls his eyes, letting me keep hold of him by his t-shirt in my fist.

“Come on mate, I just want to have a good time,” he informs me.

He leans his face close, raising an eyebrow and smirking at me.

“Maybe you can help with that,” he suggests, his voice lower now.

Quicker than I can react, he slips a hand behind my head and plants an open-mouthed kiss on my lips, letting it linger.

I shove him away in disgust, my fist connecting with his stomach, and I glower at him as he continues to laugh, coughing. How dare he impose his sick perversion on me and think he can get away with it?

But as I look back up at him, grabbing him by his t-shirt again, there’s something in his eyes that pulls at me; a hollow sadness and uncharacteristic vulnerability.

I find myself crashing my lips upon his in response. It only lasts for a moment, and when I pull away his smirk is gone and so is my anger.

Then he kisses me again, harder this time, and my hand goes into his damp, blonde hair. When he breaks away, Dom watches me, trying to gauge my reaction, probably afraid I’ll belt him again. He’s right to think so, because I should still be horrified and disgusted with him, but my mood has shifted to something else entirely.

Maybe because I know him so well, I could tell there was more going on with him tonight than it appeared; he wasn’t just being a prick for the sake of it.

Reaching down to hold his head in my heads, I crush his mouth with my own, our lips parting this time to initiate a full kiss. His tongue is wet and desperate in my mouth, and I let him kiss me as hard and as deeply as he wants to.

Dom’s hands are at my chest and throat, pulling on my neck to keep me as close as he can in his fever. I get caught up in his enthusiasm, enjoying this much more than I thought I would, or know I should, and I slip a hand down to his arse to pull him against me.

He grunts into my mouth as I feel his erection dig into me, and I’m mildly surprised to find my own dick hard in my trousers. He must be able to tell as well, because he grinds his hip directly into it, taking the breath from my lungs and making me tighten my grip in his hair.

We kiss, claw and rut against each other like this for several minutes, before I feel one of Dom’s hands begin to fumble at my belt and fly. I push him away, and instead begin fiddling at his trousers, rubbing against the swell in them while doing so. Dom’s teeth come down on my bottom lip in response, his breaths hot and rapid on my face, but it’s me that lets out a groan of both pain and pleasure.

Fly undone, I slip my hand inside his jeans, coming into contact with the heated, tender skin of his erection. I grope about for a few moments, trying to get my bearings, but Dom has already released my lips to drop his head back and let out a groan at the sensation. When I finally get my hand around him he shudders, and I begin quick, firm strokes as best I can.

I know there’s no sensible reason for me to be doing this to him, and I’m surprised I can even bring myself to regard him in a sexual manner at all, but still I’m driven on by something heavy in my chest.

I capture his mouth again, muffling his moans, and let my tongue slide and slip against his. His fingers grip my arms now, nails biting into my skin as I continue to pull him off at break-neck pace, and I can feel his body shaking.

It only takes a few moments more, and then he lets out a cry as orgasm takes him, coming wet and warm over my hand and against his belly.

I pull in slower strokes to draw it out for him, and he breathes hard against my face as he rides out the last waves of pleasure.

When Dom is finally spent he leans weakly on me for support, his hands trembling and ribcage expanding and contracting rapidly. I let him remain there for a minute before releasing his softened cock and collecting some tissues from the nearby table.

We clean up in silence; the only sound being Dom struggling to calm his breaths, and the still-rapid pound of my heartbeat in my ears. When Dom has straightened himself up, he looks up at me with a slightly bewildered expression, swallowing slowly.

“Do you need me to, erm...” he starts, motioning to my groin.

I give him a grim half-smile and shake my head.

“No, that’s alright,” I tell him. “I’m not looking for that.”

In truth, I don’t actually want Dom to touch me in that way; have his hands on my bare skin and make me come. Though I know I’ve already crossed several lines with what I just did to him, somehow it seems more wrong for him to get me off.

Because none of this was ever about me.

Dom nods and looks at his shoes for a moment, before running a hand through his hair and letting out a sigh. He makes his way over to the bed, sitting down on one side, and I join him, my hand at his back.

“I was a real wanker tonight,” he says quietly.

“Yeah, you were,” I reply with a wry smile.

He smiles weakly and then leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, putting his head in his hands. His body starts to shake and, though there’s no sound, I can tell he’s crying.

I wrap an arm all the way around his shoulders, pulling him close, and rest my chin in his hair.

It’s going to be a long night.


End file.
